Michael's pov The smell of roasting meat, heat, and loudness filled the hall. Long tables full with outlaws received shifting shadows from the enormous pit in the middle, which also launched fire spurts. The space was filled with wine and smoke, they were laughing a lot, and their mugs were full. Bloodshed was to give way to harmony on this festive night.

I sat at the head of the table, trying to convince myself that the feast was a show of strength. Even though Matilda was clothed ...